waters that she felt it necessary to keep all humans out.
When he’d exhausted all hope of finding the elusive Melodie, he turned toward Newport. If he couldn’t find the siren, he could at least check on Braithwaite’s doings in the busy port.
Skimming the bottom of the bay, Rafe swam slowly toward one of the loading docks, careful not to leave a wake and thus give his position away. He surfaced in the murky shadows around the piers and stared up at the dock opposite his hiding place. The native Caribs carried boxes and barrels up the planks of a British warship. From what he could see, the supplies weren’t provisions for a long journey but enough weaponry and gunpowder to wage a battle with any unsuspecting vessel.
“Hurry along, we don’t have all day!” A burly man dressed in the uniform of the royal navy cracked a whip, the sound making the workers jump and cringe.
A man dressed in the pompous costume of a man of royal lineage joined the burly taskmaster. Rafe recognized him as Governor Lord Braithwaite, his successor. “How soon until the ship is ready?”
“By midday tomorrow, yer lordship.”
“Good, we’ll need the cover of night in order to find Siren’s Cove.” He tucked his hands behind his back and rocked on the heels of his shiny black boots.
Another man in the garb of the ship’s captain joined the governor, a satisfied grin lifting his lips. “Are we waging war on the Spanish Main, yer lordship?”
Braithwaite frowned. “Don’t be insolent, Captain Jensen.”
Unaffected by the governor’s ill temper, Captain Jensen’s brows raised on his forehead a subtle challenge to Braithwaite’s authority on the island. “’Tis only the Obeah woman guarding the cove, is it not?”
“True, but we know not what manner of trickery she might engage in. I will have whatever treasure she’s hiding in Siren’s Cove. There is also the matter of the Serpent’s Curse. Better to be prepared than not.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Move along! Hurry it up!” The taskmaster snapped his whip over the back of an old man laboring beneath the weight of a gunpowder barrel.
The man stumbled and dropped the barrel. The wooden sides split open, scattering the gray powder over the planks of the dock.
“Stupid fool!” Braithwaite grabbed the whip and lashed out at the dark-skinned Carib. The whip slashed the man’s skin, leaving red welts and open wounds. Bright red blood stained the whip’s length, the sun glinting off the moisture.
Rafe’s own blood boiled.
The governor showed no signs of stopping his brutal rein of terror on the old man, his whip snaking out over and over until the man lay moaning.
Unable to stand by a moment longer, Rafe dove down and a moment later and surfaced beneath the dock.
With a mighty roar, he burst from the water, rising fast and sure, splintering the wooden planks of the dock. Sailors and natives scattered, screaming and racing for the shore. Some fell into the water, while others held on to the piers anchoring the dock to the land.
Lord Braithwaite dropped to his knees, whimpering like a child scared of the monster beneath his bed, only the monster was real and angry.
Captain Jensen regained his balance quickly and drew his cutlass, ready to do battle.
As quickly as he’d ascended, Rafe fell back into the water, taking the old man with him. He held the man above the water, skimming the surface all the way back to where his ship hid among the lesser islands surrounding Mystique.
He roared with his approach and a rope ladder and spare rope dropped over the side of the sloop. Crew members climbed down the swaying ropes to the water, displaying only mild concern over the fearsome monster. Having dealt with Rafe for the past few months, they knew he posed no threat to them as long as they remained loyal to him and the rest of the crew of the Serpent’s Curse.
One sailor reached out and snagged the limp man beneath his arm. “Let us ’ave ’em, yer lordship. We can take it from ’ere.”
Rafe gave over his hold of the injured native and slipped back into the depths until he completed the transformation. Each time he sank deep into the ocean, his body shifted and shrank. Bones redeployed to different locations until his legs divided and his gills disappeared. Once the transformation was complete, he had only minutes to reach the surface and breathe.
When he breached, he swam to the rope ladder and hauled himself aboard.
“Good te see ya, Rafe.” Murphy met him at the railing and pounded his back in a hearty greeting.
Seumus met him with a pair of trousers. “Thought ye might have run into a wee bit o’ trouble in Siren’s Cove.”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” A siren by the name of Melodie. Rafe slid damp legs into the trousers provided and then strode barefoot across the deck to the captain’s quarters.
Murphy followed. “As ye showed up as a serpent, I assume you didn’t kill the witch.”
“No, I didn’t kill the witch. Somehow she knew I was coming.”
“Did she send an army of natives to stop you?”
“No. Only one.”
“He must have been a big, brawny sort to put a halt to your plan.” Murphy circled him, inspecting his bared skin. “I see no battle wounds.”
His skin heated, not so much from embarrassment over being bested by a female, but because of what had deterred him from his goal. Hot, passionate sex with a virgin sacrifice. “Not a man. A siren.”
Murphy’s eyes widened. “Bless my soul.” Then he was pounding Rafe’s back again, his face wreathed in grins. “And you lived to tell about it? You are one lucky man.” He rocked back on his heels and smirked. “Perhaps I should attempt to find this Siren’s Cove. To kill the Obeah woman, of course.”
A flash of rage overcame Rafe so quickly, he grabbed Murphy by the throat and raised him from the wood flooring. “You will stay away from Siren’s Cove, do you understand?”
Unable to speak with a fist wrapped around his vocal chords, all Murphy could manage was a slight nod.
“Let ’im go, Capt’n.” Seumus laid a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “He was only temptin’ yer ire.”
For a moment longer, Rafe held Murphy until rational thought returned. Then he dropped his friend and shook out his hand.
Murphy rubbed at the marks on his neck. “A bit touchy, are we?”
“Don’t.” Seumus gave him a warning glare.
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. What had come over him that he would attack a loyal friend over a taunt? Had it been the image of Melodie splayed naked against the rocks, her legs wide, her pussy wet with passion? Or the image of Murphy as the next man to partake of her sweet offering?
He shook his head to clear the wool gathering in his mind. Melodie was a distraction who’d set his mind adrift. He had bigger problems than protecting her from one of his own. “Braithwaite prepares to launch his own attack on Siren’s Cove in two nights.”
Seumus nodded. “I suspected as much. He wants whatever Busara is hiding in the cove. Must be fantastic treasure for him to want it so much. Did ye at least discover what that might be?”
“No.” What had he accomplished by his night’s sojourn? Nothing. He’d failed miserably. But he wouldn’t let it happen again. “I’ll go back tonight and find Busara and either she lifts my curse or she dies.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a little help?” Murphy asked.
Rafe’s blood pounded in his ears and his hands clenched into tight fists, but he held his calm. “I’m quite certain.”
Seumus